


feel like a part of something.

by katarama



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, F/F, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things, things that Malia’s assured are part of societal norms, she just can’t seem to wrap her head around.  Gender is a tricky thing for her.  Everyone calls her she, so she uses it herself, but she doesn’t know if it fits.  She’s working on it.  Pronouns are yellow, for now, a work in progress.</p><p>This isn’t a societal norms thing, she doesn’t think.</p><p>Allison/Lydia/Malia aftercare</p>
            </blockquote>





	feel like a part of something.

Malia feels distinctly out of place.  It’s a feeling she’s accustomed to; since she’d returned to the human world, everything has been a constant assault of new.  She remembers snippets from when she was a child.  She can still read, though her vocabulary isn’t always up to snuff.  Technology has zoomed along since she was a kid, and getting the hang of simple things like touch screens for her phone took a frustratingly long time.  

Scott is encouraging.  He says she’s learning quickly.  She’s certainly trying, soaking up everything she sees and hears and doesn’t understand, spewing questions at Stiles and Lydia later until she’s satisfied that she gets things slightly better.  Some things, things that she’s assured are part of  _societal norms_ , she just can’t seem to wrap her head around.  Gender is a tricky thing for her.  Everyone calls her she, so she uses it herself, but she doesn’t know if it fits.  She’s working on it.  Pronouns are yellow, for now, a work in progress.

This isn’t a societal norms thing, she doesn’t think.

* * *

 

Allison is on the bed, her wrists tied above her head with soft green rope, her whole body flushed and her breathing heavy.  Lydia and her strap-on are on one side of Allison, thin wisps of hair curling at her temples, the rest of it sticking to the sweat on her neck.  Malia’s on the other side, her cunt still wet with her own slick, in spite of how Allison had eagerly tried to clean up after herself with her mouth.

That part, Malia understood, on a surface level.  It’s more intricate than Malia would think of on her own, but it’s doing what feels good, what makes her girlfriends feel good.  It’s forming bonds, chemical reactions, as Lydia would flippantly say.  It’s fucking until she’s wet and sticky and satisfied.

There’s another layer to it, though, something that is an Allison and Lydia thing, something they’d been doing long before they took her under their wing, long before the three of them had fallen into each other.  When everything was teeth and fur and claws, blood and earth and stars and brush.  They were girlfriends even then, since their sophomore year of high school, and they’ve had time to learn each other and their needs.  They have intricate rhythms and rituals that settle them in ways that Malia doesn’t understand.  

Allison and Lydia have been teaching her them for a while now, and she drinks it in even more eagerly than the things Stiles and Scott help her with.  Definitely more eagerly than the math Lydia keeps trying to force on her.  She learns that Allison gets noisy when Malia laps and nips at her tits and that Lydia will never say no to having a finger or two slipped inside her.  She learns that she likes fucking more than she likes being fucked, and that although strap-ons are a confusing mess of straps and plastic, it feels natural to her when it’s actually on, when she’s using it to fuck Allison until she squirts.

Malia learns that she’s happier when things are sloppy and messy.  She doesn’t have the same concern as Lydia for the cleanliness of the bedsheets, and Malia loves getting her mouth and nose everywhere that’s covered in slick, getting the scent of them where it’s strongest.

Other things they try to teach her, dating customs like working out who is going to pay for what, do not resonate at all with Malia, but sex she understands on a visceral level.

Even for sex, though, there are some things they’ve been taking their time with.  The complicated things like this - ropes and restraints, words that they toss out like ‘edging’ that Malia still doesn’t understand - Lydia says mean something more, that it’s not just playing with fancy toys.  Lydia says their rituals are there for a reason, that there are some things that they both need.  Allison needs to put her Argent dagger away before she goes to the bedroom, and Lydia feels more in control with makeup on.  

There’s more to it than ropes, but they’re introducing Malia one piece at a time.  They seemed to think it was the piece that made the most sense, but it didn’t really make any sense to Malia at all until tonight, when she finally got to see what they meant in action, to participate herself.  There is a palpable difference in how both of them feel and smell, even though she knows she feels and smells the same as always.  

Allison has smelled sour with stress and anxiety for a week, and even just slowly taking her clothes off at Lydia’s gentle command dulls it, brings out something else.  Malia still instinctively understands smells better than she can put words to them, but she recognizes the smell as being a stronger version of how Allison smells when she falls asleep between them in their bed after a long day, or how she smells when Lydia reminds her of her capabilities and talks her down from stressing out.  Malia calls it home, though she doesn’t think that was on Stiles’ list of common human emotions.

Lydia looks firmer, bigger than her tiny frame would suggest.  Malia’s first instinct is to think of it as scare tactics, animals in the wild making themselves look bigger than they are to scare away prey, but the more she sees, the more she realizes that that’s nothing like this.  Lydia isn’t making herself bigger, and she’s not barking out orders or snapping sharp commands.  She’s not scaring or bullying Allison into doing what she wants.  She smells like things Malia can put words to, affection and concern.  Faint arousal, too, but that’s not what sticks out most strongly.

Allison does what Lydia tells her to because she wants it, not because she’s scared.  Lydia tells Allison what to do because it’s good for both of them.  If it makes Allison smell like happiness and relaxation to be tied up, Malia isn’t going to question it.  She’s going to do her best to make one of the girls she likes smell like home.

Now that the sex is over, though, she’s back where she started, observing more than participating, trying to keep up with what everyone’s doing and why.  Lydia has her untie Allison, at least, which gives Malia something to focus on while Lydia cups Allison’s face and gives her small, quiet kisses.  

“You did so good,” Lydia coos.  Malia can smell that Allison’s glowing, a quiet, rumbling smell that Malia associates with the blush Allison gets when Lydia compliments her.  All of Allison is pink and splotchy now, but Malia can tell that the quiet compliments and reassurances are doing something good for Allison. 

It makes sense; Malia is happy when Lydia tells her she did something right, too.  When Malia finally fumbles the knot undone and Lydia praises her for being patient and not cutting the rope with her nails, it makes Malia happy.  

Lydia soothes at the marks on Allison’s wrists with a damp washcloth, asking her how they feel.  Allison’s response is sluggish when she says they’re a bit sore, and Lydia places a light kiss on each wrist before applying lotion.  She feeds Allison water from a water bottle and then lets her relax back onto the bed.  Now that Allison finally has her wrists back, she seems much sleepier.

Malia wouldn’t mind getting some more sleep, herself.  She waits to see, though, if that’s what Lydia has them do.  Lydia knows best, here.

What comes out of Lydia’s mouth is nothing she could have expected, though.  “Do you want me to get your tiger?” she asks Allison.  Allison’s beam is enough of an answer for Lydia, but Malia’s more confused than ever.

“You bought a tiger?” she asks incredulously.  “Can you even do that?”

“It’s a stuffed tiger,” Lydia says, amusement obvious.  “Allison has some stuffed animals, and when she’s under, she likes them for cuddling.”

“Under means fuzzy, right?” Malia asks.  Those are the words Allison had used to describe how this felt for her.  It doesn’t sound like a very nice feeling to Malia, but Allison said it was, and Malia trusts her.

“That’s right,” Lydia says to Malia.  “I’m going to get her tiger.  I think she could use a nice nap, and I bet she would love it if you held her.  Why don’t you get settled in?”

Malia agrees.  She doesn’t know how to say the right things to make Allison smell happy, like Lydia does, and she wouldn’t know her way around any of their complicated sex stuff if it weren’t for Allison and Lydia talking her through it ahead of time.  She’s lost when it comes to tying knots.

But offering physical comfort is something Malia can do.  It’s something she enjoys, and it’s useful now.  Allison and Lydia have always reassured her that she’s wanted and needed, but most of that night she had felt lost, like she was clamoring to follow Lydia’s directions as much as Allison.

With her arm wrapped around Allison, though, and Lydia closing in on the other side, Malia can feel that it’s true.  She’s not extra or unnecessary.  

She may be new, but she’s learning.  She’s finding ways to be helpful, and they’re teaching her to make them happy in ways that work for her.

Malia would bet that if they had her sense of smell, she would smell like home.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com)


End file.
